


a tale of street lamps & stolen breath

by youngjo



Series: of fast cars & pretty boys [4]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Car Sex, M/M, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Riding, Street Racing AU, changbin & chan are here for a moment!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjo/pseuds/youngjo
Summary: Wooyoung finally pays San back for their last meeting, making a memory with San's pretty car too.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: of fast cars & pretty boys [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514759
Comments: 16
Kudos: 222





	a tale of street lamps & stolen breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayo_yehet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayo_yehet/gifts).



> MECHANIC AU UPDATE BAY BEE
> 
> this fic was commissioned by @ayo_yehet! thank you so much!

Wooyoung had grown up with the concept of midnight rides ingrained in him. They were a small part of a bigger handful of his first memories. When he had been a mere child, height barely above his father’s knee, his parents would fight often. Shouting matches from across the house, plenty of banging, while little Wooyoung had hidden beneath his bed. He had no doubts they loved him once, before they grew at odds, but his existence quickly turned into a contest of who could hurt who more via Wooyoung. His midnight rides were his father snatching him up and strapping him into his carseat, driving around the city late into the evening. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep but even as a child he knew something was amiss.

By the time he turned ten years old, he had grown used to living on eggshells. 

Yet, those midnight rides became the habit he carried over into his adulthood. Upon reception of his Mustang, Wooyoung spent more and more time out on the town rather than in his shitty apartment. Whether to clear his head or fight negative feelings, he would fill up his gas tank and just drive. It didn’t take long for him to stumble across the street racing scene following his usual routine. He became enamored with watching cars zip down the street at blinding speeds, the wind brought forth by their acceleration bringing burning exhilaration from the ground up. Wooyoung was left speechless by the clear lack of worry for mortality. Their smiles, the way their eyes flashed … he yearned for that—for something that could make him feel the same rush of excitement. 

Those exact feelings led to his debut as Mist. Dangerous, cunning, swift—he was a natural racer. Within a month, he was being challenged by both newcomer and veteran racers. It was easier to race, he realized, when you lacked anything to care for. He had nothing holding him back, and that made him even more of a threat. He raced for a thrill; the rest raced for money or status. 

Wooyoung raced to feel alive.

Then, just as most things in life happened, something abruptly changed.

Wooyoung met San.

xxx

“I told you to lay off the racing last time you were here,” a voice grumbled, breaking Wooyoung from his thoughts.

He leaned against the other car currently in the shop, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his old leather jacket. “You think I’d actually take advice like that?”

“You should!” A wrench poked from beneath his car, the Mustang currently sitting on hydraulic suspension.The tool waved in an almost comical manner, serving as the only indication that there was a person on the other end of it. Kim Hongjoong, to be precise, owner of the body shop he was currently spending his Thursday night in. “You know, this is cutting into my Seonghwa time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Wooyoung sighed, toeing an old oil can next to his feet. “If this was any other race, if this was any other person, I would just make it wait. Sorry, Hongjoong.”

“It’s fine.” Hongjoong rolled out from beneath the car, a mess of oil and other stains on his work uniform. “I replaced your oil line. No cracks or anything down here. You take it easy on this baby, Wooyoung; every year is another part out of the catalogue.”

Wooyoung pouted. “I know. What are you, my dad?”

“No,’ Hongjoong deadpanned, rising to his feet, “I’m your mechanic.” He pressed a button on the machine holding his car up. It whirred to life, slowly dropping it back onto the concrete beneath. “Is it San?”

He groaned, realizing Seonghwa had shared all the fun details. Not that he was keeping it a secret from Hongjoong or anything. Just that talking about San made him feel a little hot and bothered in all the fun  _ and _ not so fun ways. It’d only been two weeks since that night and they hadn’t spoken about it since. Hell, Wooyoung had only  _ seen _ him once since then—two nights ago, when San had rolled up next to him at a stoplight and challenged him to yet another race. What was he gonna do, say no? 

“Who else would it be?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “I dunno. Just … be careful, Wooyoung. Seonghwa cares for you. Like, more than you think.” He placed a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder, their eyes meeting. “Don’t do anything reckless, behind the wheel or otherwise.”

“I won’t,” he promised quietly, but he knew; Wooyoung had never been someone to settle. “How much do I owe?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hongjoong replied, tossing his wrench into a grimy old toolbox nearby. “Seonghwa will just get angry if I accept your money.”

Had he been younger, Wooyoung may have balked at the idea of someone treating him like a charity case. But this was Park Seonghwa, and Seonghwa was different.

“Hey … thanks. I really appreciate it, Hongjoong.” Wooyoung placed his palm gently against the roof of his car. “For all of this. Thank you.”

Hongjoong chuckled, tossing his keys towards him; Wooyoung caught them in his other hand. “It’s fine, Wooyoung. Besides, I wouldn’t be with the love of my life if it weren’t for you.”

_ The love of his life, huh? _ Wooyoung didn’t reply, an almost melancholic expression on his face. He had never much cared for love given his childhood and yet, watching the way Seonghwa and Hongjoong were with each other … it made his heart ache. 

Wooyoung wasn’t sure if he was ready to unpack the reason for that yet.

xxx

“It’s unlike you to be on this side of town.”

Wooyoung’s lips twitched, glass clinking back onto the counter; he knew the owner of the voice all too well. “It’s unlike you to miss out on a race,” he replied.

“I could say the same for you.” A person slid into the empty seat to his right, Wooyoung glancing at them. A black-haired man with a golden set of piercings in his lower lip and right brow, dressed in a dark leather jacket and black undershirt; the tattoo of a compass jumped boldly out at him from the top of the man’s right hand. Seo Changbin, a friend dating back to his high school years, part of a fairly rambunctious gang known as Strays. Wooyoung had nearly joined up with them back when his dive into street racing began.

“Sometimes you just don’t feel like racing.” He plucked another french fry from the basket before him and quickly ate it.

“Alright, who are you and where is Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung shrugged in response, before the biggest shit-eating grin spread across his face. He held out a fist, Changbin’s own brightening up as he knocked his own into it. “Like hell I would ever miss a race. If I ever say that with a straight face, please punch me.”

Changbin laughed, elbow knocking against the counter. “Hey, I’ll punch you for free; just try me.”

“I know you will!” He exclaimed. “I never want your beefy arms on me again.”

The man sitting opposite wiggled his brows. “That’s not what you said last time. You love my beefy arms.”

“Ugh, why do I bother.” Wooyoung snatched up another fry, pushing the basket towards Changbin; the latter happily accepted one. “How have you been?” He questioned between nibbles. 

“Hmm, alright. Though …” Changbin trailed off, finishing off his fry. “Our newest member is giving me absolute hell.”

“Felix?”

“Him too, as always, but no. Still don’t his real name—alias is Noir. He’s like Felix squared. Cat-like, devious, and pushes all the right buttons at the worst time.”

_ That sounds familiar.  _ “So you wanna punch him or do you wanna  _ punch _ him?”

“I wanna punch him!” Changbin said, exasperated. “With my mouth, preferably!” He plucked another fry from the basket, looking to Wooyoung. “What about you? Been up to anything fun lately?”

Wooyoung grinned, devious. “If you count getting tongue-fucked over the hood of your own car fun, sure.”

Changbin gagged on his shot, fist thumping into his chest as he coughed. When he finally regained his breath, he turned wide eyes onto Wooyoung. “C-come again? You let someone fuck you against your  _ car? _ You never let me do that!”

“Is  _ that  _ the part you’re upset over?” He chuckled. “He reminds me of your Noir; you’d probably like him too.”

“That’s a scary thought.” Changbin fake shuddered. “I already have Felix and Noir. Don’t need a third one into that mix thank you.” Snatching up another fry, his head tilted. “You gonna tell me about how you ended up there then?”

Wooyoung knocked back another shot, feeling the warm curl of alcohol begin to race through his veins. “Get me a little hammered first, then I’ll share all the juicy little details.”

“Oh I’m sure they were juicy,” Changbin grumbled, but his wallet appeared on the counter nonetheless. 

“Can confirm that myself.” 

Both Changbin and Wooyoung’s heads turned, the latter’s jaw dropping. He was wearing that same old bomber jacket, piercings glinting in the bar’s lighting, low-cut black shirt revealing more of his tattoo—ferns with a moon in the center. His hair had been freshly dyed, a swathe towards the front stark white against his black strands, lips quirked into the most devious smile Wooyoung had ever seen.

“San,” he breathed.

San put his hands on his hips. “The one and only. Surprised you’re in here and not preparing for a race.”

“Wait, you got tongue-fucked by  _ Trickster? _ ” Changbin said, throwing a glance between them.

“Oh he got more than just my tongue,” San snickered. “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

Before Wooyoung could protest, Changbin had already hopped over one seat and patted the now empty one between them. San happily accepted the offer and plopped down within it. 

Curse Changbin and his need for teasing fodder. 

Wooyoung sighed. “I’m gonna need more shots.” Especially if he hoped to survive Changbin and San in the same room. 

“Perfect! I need some shots too!” San waved at the bartender, the latter of which seemed to recognize him. Whether a good or a bad thing he didn’t know. It only took a moment before a tray of drinks was set before them, containing a variety of bottles with expensive names that Wooyoung knew he’d butcher if he even attempted to pronounce them. 

“Jesus christ, are you trying to kill us?” Changbin exclaimed, leaning over the counter. 

“At least it’ll be of fun!” San popped the cork from a glittery blue bottle. “Wha _ t are _ you doing on this side of town anyway?”

Wooyoung plucked the final french fry from his basket and finished it off, watching San pour the three of them a new shot. “Visiting this mess.”

“You’re the mess, not me!” Changbin protested. “Like, easily seventy percent more mess.”

San chuckled and shoved the shots either direction. “Drink first, bicker later. I’m sure we have plenty to discuss.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the trio falling into a comfortable atmosphere. Despite San being the new factor to an old friendship, he found an empty space between them, quite literally, and filled it almost as if it had been created for him. San recounted the tale that led to their first time while Changbin shared how they had met. Wooyoung wanted to strangle both of them a few times but it was overall a pleasant experience. It didn’t take long for all three of them to become drunk on San’s expensive liquor, until Changbin was giggling, Wooyoung was overly touchy, and San somehow grew louder than usual. 

By the time the bar closed, Wooyoung had resigned himself to sleeping in his car for the night. He enjoyed risking his own life; he did not enjoy risking the lives of others. 

They sat on the curb outside while they waited for Changbin’s ride to show up, Wooyoung leaning back against the concrete while San danced drunkenly in the parking lot. Despite the clear intoxication, his body still moved with a weirdly fluid grace, and whatever remained of sober Wooyoung briefly wondered if he was a dancer. 

Changbin was practically comatose by the time his ride appeared. A car he recognized, sleek black with shiny chrome, pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal none other than Bang Chan, the leader of Strays with a fond smile on his face at the sight of Changbin.

“He give you trouble?” Chan asked as they buckled Changbin into the backseat.

“No more than usual,” Wooyoung replied, patting his friend on the head. He stepped back so Chan could let the door close, a soft snore following him out. A hand on his shoulder stopped him from stepping away, Wooyoung meeting Chan’s soft eyes; the only sound between them was San’s distant humming.

“Be careful with him, Wooyoung. Don’t let yourself get hurt.” Chan’s voice was more serious than Wooyoung had ever heard it.

His head tilted, thoughts slurring together. “I’m always careful with Changbin. Why would he hurt me?”

Chan just shook his head. “Not Changbin. Him.” He followed Chan’s line of sight, landing on San as he spun in a circle. “Trickster earned his moniker for a reason. If you need anything, you have my number.” The leader of Strays slipped back into his car and shut the door. “Anything, Wooyoung. I mean it. We’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be careful, Chan. Promise.” He waved as Chan pulled away, staring after his car long after he had vanished out of sight. 

When he finally turned, San had stopped dancing. He was staring at Wooyoung with a curious expression, head slightly tilted, one hand pressed against his chin. “You alright over there?” He asked.

San smiled. “Just busy admiring your ass, sweetcheeks. Been awhile since I’ve been able to see it.”

“Oh?” A switch flipped, the atmosphere taking on that same degree of intensity as last time. “Hopefully you like what you see.”

“It’s not leather but,” San paused, licking his lips, “They do the trick.”

Wooyoung, realizing an opportunity was looming on the horizon, internally smirked. He made his way towards San, sashaying his hips in the most exaggerated way he ever had in his entire life. Stopping before San, he reached out and tangled his fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pulled. Their noses hovered dangerously close and Wooyoung watched something swim within San’s eyes in the light of the neon sign still burning to their right. 

“Let me play with your tongue piercing for a bit?” He murmured, San visibly shuddering. His response was nonverbal, San instead opting to lean forward and seal their lips together. But Wooyoung wasn’t in the mood to give him any sort of control. His arm snaked around the other man’s waist and pulled them flush, Wooyoung prying those surprisingly soft lips open so he could gain total access. San allowed it and his tongue brushed along the metal ball of his piercing. Wooyoung groaned into San’s mouth as he rolled their hips together, the friction sending a spark of want through his heavy body.

His fingers grazed the hem of San’s jacket before he allowed them to dip beneath. He sucked on San’s tongue, muffled whine of need delighting him, as his fingertips followed the ridges of his spine. San clung to him as he continued his exploration of the other racer’s mouth, mapping out every sharp tooth eagerly. Only when he needed air did he pull away.

The smile on his face was wide.

“Hey San, wanna play a bit?”

“Thought that was what we were doin’,” he panted, a trickle of saliva dribbling from his lips.

“Something better,” Wooyoung whispered, extracting himself from San’s shaky frame. He took San’s hand in his own and dragged him over to the alleyway between the bar and another building, shoving him into the shadowed space. Wooyoung wasted no time in following, pushing San up against the wall of the bar and pinning him there by his hips. “Let’s play.” 

“I like the sound of that,” San replied softly.

Wooyoung smirked and then dropped to his knees. Had he been a little more sober, perhaps the dusty concrete would’ve hurt. At that moment he couldn’t give two shits. His fingers played along the soft fabric of San’s pants, running down his thighs in a flimsy attempt at a massage. San didn’t seem to care whether it was good or not though, evident by the bulge threatening the integrity of his zipper.

"Someone's excited," he mumbled, mostly to himself. His nails traced the teeth of San's zipper with reverent interest. He pinched the tab and began to pull it down with deliberate slowness, San squirming with clear impatience. Wooyoung enjoyed the clear desperation that greeted him and, even through the fog in his brain, found delight in knowing he finally had San in a position of helplessness. 

Reaching the end of his zipper, Wooyoung opted for raising his hand so he could wiggle it between soft fabric and warm skin. San shivered above him as he pulled the man's cock into the dimly lit air around them. Wooyoung scooted a bit closer and eyed the silver piercing below San's tip. It looked much less intimidating now that it was face level, which surprised him a little. Wooyoung leaned forwards and experimentally ran his tongue along the skin concealing the metal bar from view. Above him, San threw his head back against the wall with a throaty moan. Fingers brushed the messy strands of his hair but didn't grip. Perhaps he knew Wooyoung would punish him for it now that he was in control. 

He smirked. So the piercing was sensitive, huh? Alright.

Wooyoung began to deliver soft kitten licks to the spot, feeling the way the metal shifted beneath San's skin. It was a weird feeling but not one he found unpleasant. Neither of them cared much for where they were, San's moans echoing down the alleyway. They grew ever louder once Wooyoung dared to finally suck his tip between his lips, tongue flattening against the underside. He sank further down until San hit the back of his throat, going ever further until his nose brushed against the soft curls hidden in the other man's navel. San groaned, and Wooyoung began to move his head. 

It was sloppy and wet, far from his best blowjob, but Wooyoung didn't care. He had other plans for San and how he wanted his night to go, said plan formulating during their bottomless rounds of shots earlier in the evening. So when Wooyoung felt San's thighs tense beneath his hands, moans turning to breathy cries, and the sound of sharp nails dragging against worn concrete, Wooyoung pulled off. A scandalized gasp spilled into the night air and Wooyoung met confused glassy eyes with a devious smirk. 

San watched him, jaw hanging open, as he pushed himself to his feet. His knees creaked in protest but he managed. Wooyoung reached out and gently patted San's shoulder, winking. "I think you need a _ lesson or two in edging. _ " 

Seconds of silence passed before what he'd said clicked. His eyes went wide. "That's the game you're playing?"

"I think I'm winning it, if I do say so myself," he teased. "How's it feel to be on the receiving end, hm?"

San groaned in response, smacking his head back against the wall. Wooyoung took that opportunity to slide up against him, palming his wet length. "Tell you what. Let's go to your car and have some fun. I know you have lube and condoms."

"Why  _ my _ car?" San murmured, their lips dangerously close.

Wooyoung squeezed his cock, earning a disgruntled hiss. "Because last time we made a memory with mine. Your turn now." He pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Been dreaming of this since that night."

"Fuck Wooyoung, that's hot." San licked his lips, lids low and heavy. "You dream of me often?"

"Often enough." Wooyoung reached out, running his hands down San's sides. The latter giggled but it wasn't meant to be a sexy gesture. Once he reached the outline of his goal, he plucked the keys to San's Lamborghini from his pocket, the action followed with a quiet whine. But he didn't protest, so Wooyoung directed the key ring to their right and clicked a button. The pretty car beeped in response, a devious smirk overtaking his features. "Come on, I need some attention too." He took San's hand in his own and tugged him along, both doing their fair share of missteps and drunken giggles. Despite that, Wooyoung felt like he was sobering up a bit—definitely more than he wanted to be. Ah well, not a big deal.

Reaching San's car, he peered through the window to assess what they would be working with. Pretty interior, no trash ... but also no backseat. Well damn, that put a bit of a damper on his plans. "You don't have a back seat," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

San giggled, leaning against his side. "Nope. What ever will you do now?"

"We'll make it work.” After a moment or two of struggling with the door he finally managed to open it. The sleek metal slid upwards rather than out, surprising him. Wooyoung tilted his head as he examined the interior a little closer before smiling. “Hey San,” he said, peeking at his frazzled companion. 

“Hmmm? Yes, sweetcheeks?” 

“Take your pants off.” He fiddled with his own, uncaring of whether there were other people or cameras around. They slipped to the ground and he kicked them off with a bit of a struggle, grunting as his boots fought hard against him. But he still won, huffing triumphantly. Then his attention turned back to San, who had stripped down even quicker than Wooyoung had. He had removed his jacket, revealing the shirt beneath and his lithe frame. Wooyoung’s eyes traveled down, noting the still very hard cock pointing his direction, before landing on San’s nicely toned legs. Thin scarring could be seen along them but now wasn’t the time to question him over it. Later, when they weren’t dealing with raging boners, perhaps. 

“What now?” San asked, tone carrying his deviousness loud and clear—if the smirk on his face wasn’t enough of an indication. 

“Act as cocky as you want; it won’t last long.” Wooyoung turned and popped open the glove compartment, rummaging around within it. Over his shoulder, he heard the vague whisper of, ‘I’ll give you cock alright.’ … Or something like that. It wasn’t important. Moments later, he located his prize. “Didn’t take you for an orange guy,” he mumbled, looking at the label on the half-empty bottle of lube. “And glow in the dark condoms … What kind of person am I getting involved with?”

“An incredibly sexy person who would quite like to be bent over and fucked sober, please,” San’s voice chimed in. A warm hand delivered a light smack to his cheek, catching him off guard. 

“Too bad you’re gonna have to work for it,” Wooyoung replied, turning to face him. He reached out, gripping the front of San’s shirt and pulling him close. “Think you can ride me? Or is that too much of a challenge for the great Trickster?”

All at once, the floaty look on San’s face drained into something serious. His eyes darkened, head cocking to the side. “Trickster never backs down from anything.”

Internally, Wooyoung laughed. San had fallen for his little trap hook, line, and sinker. “Good.” He let go of him and instead maneuvered himself carefully into the expensive vehicle, settling against the plush seat with a dreamy sigh. It had been awhile since he’d been in the passenger seat. Feeling around, he quickly located the handle that let him dip backwards. He sank back with a satisfied smile and patted his thigh. “Have a seat, pretty boy.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before San joined him. Though unspoken, he seemed to understand what would make them both the most comfortable. Thus, his back was to Wooyoung, giving him a nice view of his ass as he sat back against his thighs. San gave a teasing wiggle of his hips, grinding against his hard length. Wooyoung gasped, hands flying up to grip San’s hips firmly. 

“Hey, you teased the shit outta me; it’s only fair.” That said, San didn’t try to move again.

Wooyoung snorted, hands moving to palm San’s cheeks. His thumbs dipped between them and pulled, San shivering in his grip. “Cute,” he mumbled before letting go, much to the other man’s displeasure. He didn’t leave him like that long though, giving the door a quick tug so it would slide shut. Now they were really cramped.

San leaned over the dashboard, accidentally thwacking his head on the windshield. He whined softly, making Wooyoung chuckle, before he reached around him to pull the lube free from the glove compartment. His hands hovered over the box of condoms before he pulled two free, knocking it shut. “Two?” San murmured.

“Unless you want cum in your carpet, yes, two. Now stay like that for a bit.”

“But it’s cramped,” San whined. Whiny drunk, huh … Somehow that suited him.

“Your fault for not having a backseat.” Fighting with the condom wrapper, Wooyoung finally managed to tear it open. Lube spilled over his fingers, cold and wet and not at all nice smelling, but it wasn’t too big of a problem. He reached around San’s legs and felt around for his cock, grasping the hard flesh in one hand and carefully rolling the condom on with the other. Satisfied, Wooyoung sank back into the seat and snatched up the bottle of lube. “When’s the last time you fingered yourself, pretty boy?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” San drawled, wiggling his hips.

Wooyoung delivered a soft smack to one of his cheeks, making him gasp. “I would, actually. Helps me figure out how much of my fingers you deserve.”

A soft ‘fuck’ spilling from his lips, San leaned heavily against his dash. “Last night.”

He wanted to tease him a bit, ask if that was so hard, but his patience had waned. Wooyoung’s nose scrunched at the artificial citrus smell that assaulted his nose. Atrocious but had he really expected anything different? Pouring a generous amount into the curve of San’s spine, he watched it trickle down into his hole and drip onto his thigh. Wooyoung didn’t leave San waiting for long though, setting the bottle back down. His fingertips traced through the sticky lube, Wooyoung sliding them down San’s slick back to press them against his entrance. 

He hesitated for only a moment, before beginning to work two fingers into him at once. San tensed with a feeble gasp but eased into it quickly. Wooyoung carefully worked his fingers deeper until his hand barred him from going further, just allowing them to sit there as San panted softly. He vaguely wondered if the other racer had ever bottomed before, given his reactions, but he didn’t care enough to question it aloud; his erection was nearing the threshold of unbearable. Wooyoung scissored his fingers then, upset he couldn’t get a full view of just how pretty it probably was, but San’s little moan made up for it. Then he began to finger him open, applying the skills he often practiced on himself to San. Even when he knew San was ready, that he could take him in one desperate thrust, he pushed him closer and closer to the edge. 

“S-shit,” San hissed, clenching around his fingers, and Wooyoung smirked. His eyes watched the way the muscles along the lithe man’s back twitched, a bed of sweat running along his spine. 

Wooyoung licked his lips and pulled his fingers free. “You lasted longer than I thought you would,” he laughed, working a condom onto his own length. 

“Asshole,” San gasped in response.

“Maybe a little.” He lifted his hands and placed them on San’s hips. “But I did tell you I’d get you back for that one time.” Then, with a note of impatience, Wooyoung guided him back. It took a bit of uncomfortable maneuvering but they eventually got it, cock sliding home in one fluid drop—just like he thought. Though he supposed gravity and San’s own need to sit and rest contributed to it. Wooyoung pulled San flush against his chest and allowed himself to sink back into the seat, the pair just taking a moment to exist in space, before he was the one to break.

Forgetting his initial plan of making San ride him, Wooyoung wrapped his arms around the man’s stomach and held him there tightly. “Let me do the work,” he mumbled into San’s ear, gently nipping it. San sighed dreamily, bracing his hands on the dashboard, and then Wooyoung got to work.

Beginning slowly, he began to thrust into San’s twitching hole. Each movement forced another soft sound from San’s lips, Wooyoung’s own gasping melding with it. He buried his face between the man’s shoulderblades, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex, before he picked up the pace. The distant sound of San clawing at the dashboard hit his ears but Wooyoung didn’t pause. Too strung up and too hot, he lasted only a few moments of rough thrusting before he reached his tipping point. White-hot pleasure liquified his veins, Wooyoung letting out his loudest cry of the evening. Something primal surged forth within him, the man sinking his teeth into San’s shoulder. The latter released the most desperate noise he’d ever heard, followed by a shout of Wooyoung’s name, and he knew he’d hold that simple vocalization close for weeks to come.

Sagging into the seat, San flopped back against them as they fought to catch their breath. The temptation to pass out nearly overwhelmed him, and Wooyoung almost gave in, but some part of his brain was luckily still capable of rational thought. They should … gather up clothes at least. Maybe call a cab? Sleep in their cars? Ah well, they’d figure it out.

“Ugh, I have a cramp,” San whined. “Help me up?”

Wooyoung complied silently, pushing San up so he could slide free. 

“Gonna be worth it though.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled. 

San sank back against him, wiggling teasingly. “Yeah! Maybe not for sober me, but drunk me loves it!”

He laughed at that too, wrapping his arms around San’s waist yet again. “Sober me will have a few choice words for drunk me too,” he hummed. “Hm … I’m not feeling sleeping in my car. Wanna take a cab back to my place?”

“Oh, we’re at that point already?” San’s fingers traced lightly over the back of his hand. 

“It’s not luxury or anything,” he murmured, “But I make a mean pancake. Stay for breakfast?”

San giggled, the sound carrying into his own chest. Wooyoung’s heart clenched then but he wasn’t ready to address why yet. He could tell San wanted to say something more too, given his hesitation, but he didn’t.

“I’d love to. Gotta live up to your pancake expectations.”

“You bet. Let’s get dressed then, and I’ll figure out the rest.”

Wooyoung had a feeling he’d get another round of fun after their race the next evening. He smirked, excitement thrumming through his veins; he couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store … even if it was a little terrifying. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> find me on twt [@moonswallowed](https://twitter.com/moonswallowed) for more spicy content!
> 
> thank you for reading!!


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